


triumvirate

by CivilBores



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, I guess????, Light Angst, Menstruation, Platonic Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Sensory Overload, Sickfic, a lot of it, and very Not Sinful, barely though lol, but not explicitly stated - Freeform, just these three being dorks, kjnd of???, pls read this theres not much to tag but i promise its cute and gen, romance is ambiguous, super wholesome, that's just it, thats it, there we go, why am i always like this????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CivilBores/pseuds/CivilBores
Summary: tri•um•vi•ratea group of three powerful or notable people or things existing in relation to each other.-MJ, Ned, and Peter all care about a lot about each other in their own little ways.





	triumvirate

_i. MJ_

 

“Alright, class,” Coach Wilson barks out in his megaphone voice. “Mile time!”

 

Ned dramatically drags his hands down his face. “Oh my god, this sucks balls big time.”

 

“It’s not that bad,” Peter says.

 

Ned squints up at Peter with a frown. “You’re literally the only person on the entire planet who has said that, ever.”

 

“I think you’re overreacting a little.”

 

As the two continue their bickering and get up from the bleachers, MJ tucks knees to her stomach and buries her head between them. Her hair hangs down and gets in her face, but she hardly notices.

 

All she’s aware of is the horrible pain in her stomach. It’s awful, feels like a knife is being twisted in her gut every single second- a white-hot jagged double-edged blade, shoved into her flesh right where her uterus is.

 

She remembers when she first felt pain like this, and she’d explained it to her mom the exact same way. Her mother had simply clicked her tongue at MJ- _“Michelle, silly, that’s not what it is. Your uterus is pumping blood out, which makes your stomach contract and causes the cramp.”_

 

MJ had responded to this with an eloquent, _“Periods are bullshit.”_

 

The memory makes MJ smile, despite the terrible cramp in her gut that’s growing worse by the second. She has to stifle a laugh under her breath, her head still between her knees-

 

“Oh my god,” Ned mumbles from above her. “She’s _laughing._ She’s seriously gone crazy.”

 

“Maybe she likes running the mile,” Peter says in response.

 

“No way.”

 

“Running the mile is a bitch,” MJ agrees with Ned.

 

Ned grins and turns on Peter triumphantly. He spreads his arms- “Told you. You’re the weird one, not me.”

 

Peter is bending down, though, and he’s going to sit on the bleacher below her- oh god, no, he’s sitting down at her feet and his stupid brown eyes are looking straight into her soul.

 

MJ knows that look; it’s one of the many variations of the wounded puppy looks Peter has that makes literally _everybody_ break. He could rule the world with his wounded puppy looks, really.

 

This time, it’s the “I’m-a-wounded-puppy-because-I’m-worried-about-you” look.

 

And she does not need _Peter Parker_ to be worried about her on top of all of her menstrual problems.

 

“Hey, are you-”

 

“I’m fine,” MJ grinds out before Peter can even finish. He blinks, his mouth snapping shut, and he frowns at her.

 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

 

 _Stupid_ , MJ thinks as she stares at his stupid cute face.

 

“Stop looking at me,” she orders, because if she has to stare at his concerned eyes for another second she’ll cave in.

 

Surprisingly enough, Peter actually obeys her, and puts his hands over his face.

 

On second thought, MJ thinks, maybe it’s not so surprising.

 

“Wait, what’s going on with you two?” Ned says, furrowing his brow at MJ. “Is this some kind of secret code? Because if it is, I totally missed it.”

 

“Nothing’s going on,” MJ snaps.

 

“Parker! Leeds! Jones!”

 

The three of their heads turn up, towards the open grass fields, where their classmates are starting to line up to run. Coach Wilson’s holding a clipboard and standing with his whistle hanging loose around his neck, turned on them.

 

“Get over here, we don’t have all day,” he shouts to them.

 

Ned and Peter both get up from the bleachers and walk a few paces away until they're out of MJ’s line of vision. She exhales in relief. Thank God, they’re gone. She’s praying they don’t turn back for her, don’t give her a second glance, that they’ll just ignore her and run the damn mile-

 

“MJ, are you coming?” Ned asks.

 

“Fuck,” MJ declares loudly.

 

Ned and Peter are both turned back to her, staring- why the fuck are they staring?!- and now Ned looks just as concerned as Peter, great.

 

“What?” Peter says.

 

“I said, ‘fuck’. Because can’t you two just run the fucking mile?”

 

“Something’s wrong,” Ned says. “I mean, you usually have a _slight_ attitude, but you’re never this snappy.”

 

“Nothing is wrong, okay?” MJ snaps.

 

Ned shrugs, looking at Peter. “See? She’s snappy,” and Peter shrugs back.

 

MJ lets out an irritated breath of frustration and runs her hands through her hair. “Look, I just have stomach cramps right now, and it’s not so fun.”

 

“You should go to the nurse,” Ned says.

 

“I’ll tell Coach Wilson,” Peter suggests.

 

MJ wants to curl up and die right here on the cold, uncomfortable bleachers. She can’t believe these two complete buffoons are her best friends.

 

“You can’t tell Coach Wilson,” MJ says, almost adding the word “bitch” just to rattle Peter. It takes all of her willpower to bite it back at the last moment.

 

“Why?” Ned and Peter say together.

 

“Because I’m on my _period_ , shitheads!”

 

Peter and Ned both visibly stiffen. Peter bites his lip and begins wringing his hands out like he’s thinking. Ned, on the other hand, repeats, “So why can’t you tell Coach Wilson that?”

 

“Because, it’s super weird and embarrassing. He’s, like, a middle-aged cis male. He doesn’t know a thing about periods, it’ll just make him feel uncomfortable and awkward and I don’t want his pity.”

 

“Well, you obviously can’t run the mile, so we’re gonna have to think of some kind of excuse to get you out of class,” Peter says.

 

“I can do that,” Ned says. “I have an idea. Just follow my lead, okay?”

 

Peter nods and gets up, standing beside Ned. The two of them glance at MJ.

 

“Do you need any help?” Peter asks.

 

“No. I’m stronger than both of you combined.” MJ stands a little too fast and her stomach wrenches, but luckily Peter and Ned don’t seem to notice.

 

“Coach Wilson!” Ned calls, flagging the coach down. “Peter’s having an asthma attack!”

 

Peter shoots Ned a split-second look that’s pure venom. MJ has to bite her lips to keep from laughing. Coach Wilson turns around with a concerned look on his face.

 

“Really? Is it serious?”

 

“Um,” Ned says, and MJ wants to slap him upside the head. So much for his elaborate “plan”. Ned’s the worst liar MJ has ever seen.

 

Luckily, Peter picks it up immediately- “It’s not serious. The doctors said I’m one of the strangest cases they’ve seen- I hardly get them, but when I do…”

 

Peter even stops for a moment, taking a deep breath that sounds like a one-hundred-percent real _wheeze_. He needs a fucking Oscar for this performance, MJ thinks.

 

Peter coughs a bit, straightening. “When I do, it just makes me a bit out of breath. Could I go get my inhaler?”

 

“Sure. Leeds, go with him.”

 

Peter stops. “Can MJ and Ned both come with me, actually?”

 

Coach Wilson raises a brow. “What’s the need?”

 

“Well, I- um.” Peter fiddles with his fingers, looks down- “This is a little embarrassing, but I- I get a little… scared when I get these. The first time I got it, MJ and Ned with me, and- and they make me feel… safe, y’know? It’s- it’s stupid…”

 

Peter’s eyes are red and glassy. He looks down at his feet. It takes every ounce of willpower in MJ’s body not to gape at him.

 

“I understand,” Coach Wilson interjects quickly. “I get it. Take all the time you need, Peter.”

 

“Thank you, Coach,” Peter says meekly, and Coach Wilson walks away, blowing his whistle.

 

Ned, Peter, and MJ all turn around and start walking back to the school hallway. As soon as the coach is out of earshot, MJ shoves Peter.

 

“What the _fuck?”_ MJ demands. “What was _that_?!”

 

Peter blinks. “What?”

 

“That was fucking legendary,” Ned breathes, laughing. “Oh my god, Peter- were you _crying?”_

 

“You should be thanking me,” Peter says with a huff, crossing his arms. He glances at MJ, raising his eyebrows. “And Ned too, actually, for what it’s worth. Even though he hardly helped-”

 

“Hey-” Ned puts in.

 

“Still,” Peter says.

 

MJ rolls her eyes as they continue down the hallway. Their shoes click quietly, echoing through the building.

 

She glances back at her two best friends.

 

They’re total shitheads. Complete, utter losers.

 

“Thank you,” she mutters under her breath.

 

To her pleasant surprise, neither of them make fun of her or even make a big deal out of it. They just keep walking.

 

“Next time you have menstrual cramps, tell us,” Peter says softly. He looks up at her and smiles. “We could get you out of class whenever you need us to.”

 

On MJ’s right, Ned adds, “We care about you, okay, Michelle? You’re our best friend.”

 

MJ looks down at her sneakers to avoid eye contact with them.

 

“I told you to call me MJ,” she says.

 

 

 

 

_ii. Ned_

 

“You’re coming to the movie today, right?”

 

Ned falls back to his bed with a thump. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

 

“What? Why?” Peter _audibly_ frowns on the other end of the line. “Dude, we’ve been planning this for weeks, are you bailing-”

 

“I’m not ditching you guys or anything, okay?” Ned sighs. “Trust me, I wish I could go, but…”

 

“But what?” Peter prompts.

 

“Okay, please don’t overreact,” Ned begs. “And please don’t freak out.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I woke up sick today,” Ned admits. “But don’t tell Michelle, okay? Just tell her I already had plans or something. I don’t want you guys to miss out on the movie because of me.”

 

There’s a long, painful pause. Ned has to resist the urge of smashing his head into his phone- he can practically hear Peter suffering in the silence, trying his best not to overreact, but the quiet is telling by itself.

 

“Your parents are out of town, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How are you going to take care of yourself-?” Peter’s voice is rising, and oh my god, Peter’s literally _fretting_ over him like some mother hen.

 

“I’m gonna be fine, it’s not that big of a deal! Peter, seriously, tell Michelle I already had plans.”

 

“Okay,” Peter says finally. “Okay, I won’t. Just hold for a second, I’ve got her on the other line, I’ll tell her that.”

 

“Okay,” Ned agrees. There’s a brief pause, the sounds of Peter fumbling with the phone buttons.

 

The next second, Peter shrills, “Oh my god, Ned’s sick! He could be dying right now, MJ, we should definitely go-”

 

“Peter?” Ned demands. “Dude, what the hell?”

 

There’s another brief pause. “Oh, hey, Ned,” Peter says.

 

“Yep, still me,” Ned says irritably. “Dude. You literally _just_ promised not to tell her.”

 

“I won’t,” Peter says.

 

“Peter, I just _heard_ you. You just pulled a total Karen Smith from Mean Girls.”

 

“It’s not my fault I don’t know how to use the stupid phone,” Peter says. “Look, I am going to tell her, okay? It wouldn’t matter anyway. MJ can spot a lie from ten miles away.”

 

Ned groans. “Fine, but can you two please go out and have fun without me? Really, I can sit this one out, it’s not a big deal. I’ve got the tiniest head cold, I hardly even have any symptoms, I just don’t feel well enough to go out right now.”

 

“Alright,” Peter says reluctantly. “Okay, we’ll have fun today.”

 

Ned hangs up first, because he knows Peter never hangs up, ever. He flops back onto his mattress with a low groan and pulls his blankets over his head.

 

The thought of Peter and Michelle hanging out without him isn’t that bad, or even that unnatural. Ned gets _that_ feeling from them, that awkward sexual tension feeling that’s in most teen movies- like Peter and Michelle are both the misfit protagonists who find themselves in love or something, and Ned’s just the Fat Best Friend.

 

He’s kind of accepted this role by now, though. So he isn’t upset at all that he has to sit out this time. He might even be doing them a favor by leaving himself out.

 

Ned sniffles, and it’s definitely just because he’s sick, and he turns over, huddling under his blankets. He lets his eyes close and begins to drift off to sleep.

 

He’s fallen into the half-asleep, half-awake state, where everything is gray-ish and muted, when the doorbell rings.

 

Ned blinks himself awake and stumbles to the door with his blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon.

 

When he opens the door, Peter and Michelle are standing on his front porch, holding plastic bags.

 

“What the _fuck?”_ Ned exclaims, and is more than disappointed when his voice comes out nasal.

 

“Hey, loser,” Michelle says. “You look like shit.”

 

Peter waves at Ned with a smile and steps inside the house. Ned steps aside for him, still gaping.

 

“Peter,” Ned says, and then repeats, “What the _fuck?”_

 

Peter holds up a DVD in front of Ned’s face- _Mean Girls._

 

“I know you don’t have this at your house so I thought I’d bring it,” Peter says. “Since you brought it up.”

 

“Why are you here?” Ned says, watching as Michelle flops onto the living room sofa and stretches her long legs over the side. “And why is she here too?”

 

“Because we’re your friends, dumbass,” Michelle says, opening one of the plastic bags. “Now come sit.”

 

Ned trudges over to the couch and sits between Peter and Michelle. Michelle takes a plastic container out of the bag and hands it to Ned.

 

It’s warm to the touch. Ned pops off the plastic lid and peers inside-

 

“You brought _soup_?” Ned asks incredulously.

 

“What does it look like to you?” Michelle says.

 

“There’s pizza in here, too,” Peter says, holding up another bag. “I didn’t know if you were well enough to eat it, but if you want it…”

 

“Put in the movie,” Michelle orders Peter.

 

Peter looks at Ned. “Which one do you wanna watch first?”

 

“You brought multiple?”

 

“Peter says you have sucky movies in your house,” Michelle says, reaching over Ned’s lap to open the pizza box. She takes out a slice and shoves the tip in her mouth. “He brought, like, fifty.”

 

“Let’s see…” Peter’s fumbling with DVDs, sorting through them. “ _Empire Strikes Back?_ How about _Star Trek: Beyond_?”

 

“Seriously? You brought nerd movies?”

 

“They are not nerd movies, they’re cultured _and_ refined-”

 

“You’re the biggest nerd in the universe-”

 

“ _Mean Girls_ it is,” Peter scoffs, hopping from the couch to put it in the DVD player. Peter returns to the couch, his leg brushing against Ned’s.

 

Ned dips his spoon into his soup. “I thought I told you guys to go have fun,” he says quietly as the screen flickers to life before them.

 

“We are having fun,” Peter reasons. “We just decided to bring the fun to you so we could all share it.”

 

“Yeah, but….”

 

“You’re our friend, okay? It’s not fun without you,” Michelle says.

 

The screen fades into color, showing Cady Heron’s room. Ned watches the camera pan around, revealing the boxes lying on the floor on screen.

 

“Loser,” Michelle adds.

 

Peter’s head brushes against Ned’s arm. Michelle’s foot nudges Ned’s.

 

He has the two greatest friends ever.

 

He takes a bite of the soup, and it’s fucking fantastic.

  
  


 

_iii. Peter_

 

“What’d you get for number sixteen?”

 

“Dumbass, why don’t you do it first and then ask me?” MJ sneers.

 

“What does it matter?”

 

“Uh, because then you’re not gonna do it yourself and then you’re not gonna _learn_ ,” MJ says. “That’s elementary school shit, Leeds.”

 

“And cheating,” Peter adds. Ned gawks.

 

“You’re taking her side?” Ned asks.

 

“Y’know, we sure are talking a lot for a _study_ date,” MJ says. “So _shut it_ , loser.”

 

Ned’s pen scribbles something onto his paper. “Okay, _now_ what’d you get for number sixteen?”

 

“Four,” Peter and MJ say together.

 

“Oh, I got that too,” Ned says.

 

“See? You never would’ve gotten the satisfaction of getting that right by yourself if you took my answer,” MJ says smugly. Ned hums in agreement.

 

The three of them are sprawled out on the floor of MJ’s room, their books lying open in front of them.

 

The worst thing is, Peter is completely fine.

 

And it’s so awful how things can go from _completely fine_ to _horrible_ in a single moment.

 

He’s just sitting there, on the floor, easily jotting down answers to his math homework, Ned and MJ on either side of him. Ned’s clicking his pen- _clickclickclickclick_ \- and MJ’s distracted, doodling on the corner of her paper with her pencil- _scribblescribblescribblescribble_ \- and

 

everything

 

just

 

slows

 

down.

 

Peter’s ears begin to ring.

 

_Clickclickclickclick._

 

Peter’s own pen drops out of his hand and hits his notebook- _thud-_ and rolls to the floor.

 

 _Clickclickclickclick_.

 

_Scribblescribblescribblescribble._

 

_“What’d you get for seventeen?”_

 

Peter’s suddenly very aware of how _bright_ the room is. MJ’s lamp is sitting on the desk in front of them, and it’s so bright and Peter can feel the soft glow of heat it’s giving off- it’s a heat lamp- he can hear the whir of the lamp as it generates the heat, and it goes _brrrrzzzzzzzzz_ and _doesn’t stop._

 

_Clickclickclickclickscribblescribblescribble-_

 

It’s too bright-

 

_Brrrrrrrzzzzzzzzt-_

 

Ned’s kicking his legs, and they each hit the floor with a thud, one after the other in an almost rhythmic pattern. _Thud. Thud. Thud._

 

MJ’s long nails are tapping against her padded notebook. _Taptaptaptaptaptap._

 

_Clickscribble-_

 

Bright-

 

_Brrzzzthudtap-_

 

It’s no longer just sounds now. Everything’s too loud, too _much_ , all at once.

 

This isn’t the first time Peter’s gotten sensory overload. It definitely won’t be his last. And it is not fun.

 

His eardrums feel like they’re about to burst. Sharp pain is building at the base of his skull, his entire body feels like it’s floating and yet his head feels like it’s on fire. Everything hurts. Everything feels far away. The only things he can hear are the clicks and the scribbles and the buzzes and the thuds and the taps and all he can see is the blinding light and then he’s gone.

 

He needs to come back, now. He needs to bring himself back. He digs his fingernails into his arms hard, deeper and deeper. Maybe the pain will ground him.

 

He hopes to God the pain will ground him.

 

Peter’s only distantly aware of his breathing, which is starting to become painful. Each gasp of breath isn’t enough, he needs air he needs air he needs air-

 

His breaths are deep and sporadic. He pulls his knees to his chest and he can feel his heart beating too fast- _thump thump thump thump-_

 

No, no, not _more noise._ Anything but noise. Peter’s hands clasp over his ears and he screws his eyes shut, trying desperately to make it all go away-

 

 _Clickscribblebrrrzzthudtapthump_ BRIGHT-

 

“-Peter, are you-”

 

“Hey- what- you- okay-”

 

“Peter-”

 

His head is pounding, aching.

 

A hand rests on his shoulder and the effect is almost excruciating. The sensation of _feeling_ is more prominent and jarring than everything else and Peter’s spiraling back before he can even register it. His back hits the ground hard.

 

“Don’t touch me,” Peter chokes out, but he can’t hear it over the sounds of everything else. Everything is so loud, so awful-

 

He curls his nails into his forearms again. Stop. Stop. Everything needs to just-

 

And then the clicking is gone.

 

And the scribbling, and the thudding, and the tapping.

 

Slowly, slowly, everything fades back to him. He blinks, his vision coming back into focus. He’s lying on the floor of MJ’s room again.

 

Ned and MJ are standing over him with matching expressions of concern.

 

“Peter,” Ned says.

 

“Turn the lamp off,” Peter says hoarsely.

 

MJ immediately reaches over and hits the switch. The buzzing stops and the lights flicker out.

 

Peter’s eyes flutter shut once again. He doesn’t want to open them, doesn’t want to see MJ and Ned and have to watch them worry over him.

 

“Peter, are you okay?” Ned’s voice asks.

 

Peter gives a slow, forced nod.

 

“Are you an idiot?” MJ hisses. “Of course he’s not okay, did you just see what happened?”

 

“I’m just trying to help him, okay-”

 

“Stop talking,” Peter begs them. “Please. Just- just for a minute.”

 

The effect is instantaneous. Both of them are silent. Peter takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

 

_In. Out._

 

Everything’s okay.

 

_In. Out._

 

He’s strong.

 

_In. Out._

 

He’s done this before.

 

_In. Out._

 

He can do it again.

 

Peter finally opens his eyes. Ned and MJ are sitting across from him now. He’s not sure how much time he spent just _lying_ on the ground, recollecting himself, but Ned and MJ’s gazes are still fixed tightly on him.

 

Peter sits up, though his head throbs and he still feels like shit and his entire body protests against it. He rubs his eyes groggily.

 

“Okay,” he says. “I’m back, I think.”

 

“You’re good?” Ned says.

 

Peter nods tersely. “I am now.”

 

“What happened there?” MJ asks. Her expression has softened.

 

“I just… you know. Enhanced senses and everything. It’s not always just sunshine and roses, it- I just- sometimes everything just becomes too much, y’know? And- and…”

 

Peter runs a nervous hand through his hair. They’re both staring at him- _great, nice going, Parker_ , he thinks miserably to himself. _Way to freak them out._

 

They don’t say anything, and the painfulness of the silence is possibly even worse than before. Peter coughs into his sleeve and looks down shamefully.

 

“Sorry you had to see that,” Peter mumbles, fiddling with his sleeves. “It- it won’t happen again, I- I didn’t mean to freak you guys out or anything…”

 

“You’re not seriously blaming this on yourself, right?” says MJ from above.

 

Peter doesn’t look up to meet her eyes.

 

“You’re totally blaming this on yourself. Oh my god,” MJ says. “Seriously, Peter? You think we’re mad at you or something?”

 

“No,” Peter says thickly.

 

“Okay, first of all, you’re a shitty liar,” MJ says. “Second of all, we’d never _blame_ you for your weird spider shit. Especially not something like this. It’s okay to… to be damaged sometimes, alright, Peter? Everyone is. Just let us help you.”

 

“You don’t have to help me,” Peter protests. “I’m not worth it.”

 

“Peter, stop it,” Ned says. “No one’s _forcing_ us to be your friends. We’re your friends because we care about you.”

 

“And we’re gonna help you, okay?” MJ says. She scoots over to Peter’s side, sitting next to him. “You’re horrible at seeking help when you need it, but that’s okay because you don’t have to ask for it anymore. We’re gonna be here for you no matter what. We’re sort of a triumvirate now.”

 

“Let’s kick homework for a while, okay?” Ned says. “How about we take a break? Let’s play Mario Kart or something.”

 

A few minutes later, the three of them are seated on a couch in front of a TV screen, each with game controllers in their hands.

 

And Peter waits for that moment for one of them to ask how he’s doing, like they’re his therapists or something- waits for one of them to ask if he’s okay, if they should turn down the volume or turn down the lights.

 

But neither of them do. None of them say another word about it- they just press the buttons wildly on their controllers, listening to the soft hum of the video game program.

 

MJ’s character chucks a green shell at Ned’s and sends his car reeling over the edge of the course. Ned makes a loud noise and jumps beside Peter.

 

“Fuck you!” Ned says. “How did you even aim like that with the green shell?!”

 

“I’m a fucking ninja,” MJ says as her character’s wheels spin and her car drifts, pulling off a perfect turn on the street corner.

 

Peter’s eyes are fixed on the screen. He doesn’t look at either of them, but he says “thanks” in a quiet, low voice. It’s so soft that he thinks maybe they don’t even hear it.

 

But then Ned rests his head against Peter’s shoulder and MJ kicks her legs up into Peter’s lap.

 

Peter has to suppress the dumb smile that threatens to creep onto his face.

 

“Focus on the game, stupid,” MJ says. “You’re totally gonna lose at this rate.”

 

Peter glances at her and catches her eyes- they linger on him for just a moment too long- and they’re so dark that the light of the TV screen illuminates the edges of them and makes her gaze even sharper than usual.

 

Her eyes speak for her. She gives him a thousand words with just a glance, and among them are a few that say, _we care about you, idiot, don’t forget that._

 

Peter cares too.

 

After all, they’re sort of a triumvirate now. They stick together.

 

They’re powerful together.

 

And even if it’s the little things, like MJ’s legs on Peter’s thighs and Ned’s head on his shoulder, Peter finds his own strength in the two of them too.

**Author's Note:**

> i love these three more than i love myself. and i'm all for healthy, super cute, dynamic friendships. friendship is golden, y'all  
> leave a comment!!!!! they make my entire day and make these worth writing, plus they make me smile like an idiot. thanks for reading, i hope you liked it!!!  
> my tumblr is too-many-bees if ya wanna chat, ask me something, or drop a writing prompt :)


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